


The Dragon Whisperer

by Luxie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Also if you want Ana and Reinhardt can be a couple too although that is not really mentioned, Also you can catch the blooming relationship between Lucio/Hana/Genji if you squint, Dragon Spirits, Dragons, Jack and Gabe are old and Married, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-05 10:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11576097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxie/pseuds/Luxie
Summary: After an accident that leaves his kid brother burned and scared of his own dragon, Hanzo Shimada is at a loss, until he finds an honest to god Cowboy who is rumored to be able to tame anything. Leaving his business empire, Hanzo decides to go to the states, bringing a sour Genji along.Also known as: The Horse Whisperer AU That Nobody Asked For.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding ages: Nothing here makes sense, okay? Just roll with it. Here's a list for those who cares: Jesse(32), Hanzo(32), Genji(20), Jack(55), Gabriel(56), Ana(45), Fareeha(19), Angela(30), Tracer(20), Lucio(18), Hana(19) Reinhardt(ageless), Dragons(ancient)

The snowstorm had hit during the night, leaving Shimada Castle covered in a frost-shimmering blanket. Big clusters of flakes are still falling in the pale light of the winter dawn, slowly, with no wind to send them whirling. Grinning, Genji sticks his tongue out to catch one, an innocent display of a childhood otherwise long gone, and his Dragon coiles herself around him as he walks, thrilled at finally being let out.

It is just the two of them out here, the sounds of the surrounding city muffled by the snow, and Genji lets himself get caught up in the beauty of his Dragon dancing over the white crystals, tail whirling up icicles and ancient muscles working under near-translucent scales. They are completely lost in their own world, Genji's breath coming out in clouds as he pants and laughs, and neither of them see the shadow until it is too late.

The last thing Genji remembers is his Dragon wrapping herself around him to protect him from the slicing katana, and then pain, as flames emerges and takes away all the beauty of that winter morning in one fiery breath.

 


	2. Chapter 1

The conference room overlooks the snow-clad rooftops of Hanamura, and behind them the mountains. Hanzo stands by the wall-to-wall window, eyes locked on a puffed-up, little sparrow that looks as misserable outside in the cold as Hanzo feels in here. The arguments continue behind him, several at the same time, sometimes interweaving, but never dying out.

“If you don't think it's worth another ten percent, then why did you even come to us with this offer?”

“Vishkar will demand even more.”

“I don't think you've realized the position you are in.”

Hanzo pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut, hoping beyond reason that it will make the lawyers shut up and clear out the room. No such luck. He has heard all these arguments before and it's not that he doesn't agree with them, it is just not the right way to go about it.

“Gentlemen,” Hanzo interrupts, raising a hand before the room can fall into an all-out riot. “May I suggest we take a break from _bickering_ and put some hard numbers on the table instead.”

The lawyers fall into a murmur of amending agreement, just as Hanzo's secretary catches his attention from the other side of the glass doors, clutching a phone in her hands.

“Excuse me.” He tells the men and slips out of the conference room.

“It's about your brother,” The secretary says. She is no doubt trying to stay professional, but her eyes betray her.

 

 

Genji is wearing nothing but a simple hospital gown, lying inside a glass chamber with tubes and IV's sticking out of him and monitors showing his vitals.

“Why is he in there?” Hanzo demands.

“It's to keep the wounds from getting infected and to control his temperature.” the doctor explains. “The air is high on oxygen which helps the healing process.”

“How bad is it?”

“The burns cover most of his body.” the doctor tells him bluntly. “As it is, he is being kept alive by the machines. Right now he cannot breathe on his own because his lungs are too damaged, and to be honest with you, Shimada-san, I doubt he will ever be able to.”

“He won't be able to fight anymore?”

The doctor blinks at him, confused. “He will be lucky if he is ever able to walk.” The doctor watches him process the verdict, then continues, “Without extensive stem-cell grafts and bionic components he won't survive outside of a hospital bed.”

Hanzo gives a court nod to show that he understands, eyes locked on the shape of his baby brother. “Do what you can for him.” He says, “Money isn't an issue.”

“Of course, Shimada-san.” The doctor bows out, leaving Hanzo alone with his thoughts and the medical report.

Apparently the worst damage had been caused by Genji's own Dragon, but that is not an acceptable place to put the blame. Genji is young, well trained, but inexperienced in combat. The bond with his Dragon had been strong, but it was a bond build mostly on affinity and devotion rather than routine, so it's not surprising that the two had been out of sync when faced with an actual foe.

A foe that Hanzo wishes so desperately to crush. It had been an assassin, obviously, but who had sent him is impossible to determine, as the man is now an unrecognizable lump of charred flesh and bones. Hanzo knows it could be any of the many enemies his Empire has, old and new, but in reality there are only a few of them bold enough to try and get to Hanzo thought his brother. Hanzo himself is practically impossible to get to, not just because he is always covered by a handful of bodyguards, but also because Hanzo himself is a near-unrivaled fighter and constantly alert when out in the open. Genji is different, a dreamer, and even at twenty years old Hanzo's baby brother has a tendency to get into his own head.

With no place to turn his anger Hanzo pushes it inwards, a burning ball of rage, and goes to the family dojo. He brutally takes down nine robotic combatants with out a single break, the ninth by kicking it into the wall and roaring at it so loudly that his lungs actually hurts after. Then his whole chest hurts and his throat is closing up, and Hanzo feels angry tears sting the corner of his eyes for the first time since their parents had been killed ten years ago.

 

 

Genji returns from the hospital three months later. He has been through several surgeries and advanced physical therapy, and his body is reacting well to the new bionic parts, which is a positive surprise considering how much Genji seems to resent them.

“Without them you'll die.” Hanzo had said.

“Maybe that would be for the best.” Genji had answered.

It had been a short conversation, but more than what any of the therapists Hanzo had hired to help Genji had managed. Genji feels betrayed by his own body; It doesn't take a degree in trauma and PTSD to figure that out. Every time he struggles to do something as simple as hold a glass he gets angry with himself and every night when he goes to bed and Hanzo helps him out of the exo-suit he gets angry with Hanzo. At least the outbursts of anger is something Hanzo can deal with, as oppose to the indifference that seems to be Genji's new default.

Genji's pain is like twin daggers: On stuck in Genji's heart, making him struggle to accept his scarred and mutilated body with its new bionic parts and limits, the other wedged into Genji's spirit, making him fear his Dragon.

Hanzo thinks time and the right kind of therapy will help Genji with the first. Vanity is a natural result of being as young and handsome as his brother had been, and right now Genji is suffering deeply and vehemently, much like Hanzo had when he lost his legs in the attack that took away their parents. Hanzo had been vain then, too. Young and crippled and wounded by his loss he had nearly torn himself apart in his anger over his new fate, but slowly he had rebuild himself in a new image and so will Genji.

The second of Genji's problems, though, is a matter too complex and delicate to be left to just anyone.

“Genji, listen to me.” Hanzo says the night Ganji returns to Shimada Castle. “One way or another you have to figure this out. You are a Shimada, you weren't raised to give up.”

“Brother, look at me.” Genji says, back turned, and he almost sounds bored. “What is there to figure out? What life is there for me now?”

“I refuse to let you waste away!” Hanzo challenges. He does not expect Genji to spin on him and get up in his face.

“I'm more machine than man!” he yells. “I am burned, I am damaged.” Genji's breath comes out in ragged sobs now, voice cracking when he adds, “Who is ever going to want me?”

“Genji-” Hanzo says, but Genji coils away as soon as Hanzo raises a hand to sooth him.

“You can go now,” is all Genji says, voice thick.

Hanzo swallows, feeling utterly helpless, which is not a feeling he is used to. He is used to fighting, with words in business meetings and with weapons in the sparring room. His hands can kill a person, but they cannot heal. They cannot help his baby brother find peace.

 

 

For a thousand years before mankind they roamed the skies and open planes of the wilderness, primal spirits both cruel and pure at the same time. They first came to know man as predator knows it's prey, but in time there would be some among humans, who would earn the respect and compassion of the Dragon spirits.

Hanzo knows the legends. They had been as basic a part of his upbringing as respect and patience. He hears them, even now, in his father's regal voice, but he cannot recall a single passage that will help him heal Genji's frayed mind.

 

Two weeks after Genji returns home from the hospital he punches a wall so hard that he breaks his new bionic hand. Hanzo stops the second punch by grabbing his brother's wrist and twisting him around. He pushes Genji backwards, catching the other wrist as well and holding both until Genji deflates, going limp between the frame of his older brother and the wall. Shaking, Genji drops his forehead to Hanzo's shoulder and sobs.

That night Hanzo admits to himself that he has failed his brother. He understands now that Genji's pain of the heart and pain of the spirit have become so intertwined that every day that Genji has to fight through rips into the growing gulf between him and his Dragon. At this rate Hanzo is unsure if the darkness can ever be bridged, let alone closed.

Desperate, he starts scouring the internet, looking for any reference to a spirit healer he can find, but it's not until the small hours that a message ticks in from an old friend, with a link to an article which features a picture of a cowboy, taken at a distance, and a business number. A quick glance at the clock and even quicker math tells him that it's just before noon in New Mexico.

“This is Shimada Hanzo.” He introduces himself to the man on the other end, who, according to the article Hanzo read, is about his own age. “I've heard you have a gift for guiding the lost and soothing spiritual pain.”

“Have'ya, now?” The accent is lilting, sugar sweet and teasing at the same time.

“Yes, you've worked on a project involving a native American burial site.” Hanzo says, “calming the spirits. At least that's what my contact says.”

“That's true, but I mostly work with animals now. You see, I have very little time these days and healing ancient spirits is slow and dangerous work.”

“I would like you to help me soothe a Dragon spirit-”

“Listen, Mr-?”

“Shimada Hanzo.”

“Mr. Hanzo,” The cowboy says, ignoring Hanzo's cut-off protest at the name. “I'm not sure how you expect me to help your Dragon spirit-”

“It's not mine, it's my brother's-”

“-but as I said, I mostly deal in animals now, horses, dogs and the like. Much more pliable, much less deadly.”

“If you would just-”

The man cuts him off again. “So I'm sorry, but good luck, mister.” The line clicks - a honest to god landline? - and Hanzo is left staring at the display of his phone, fury quelled by outright shock.

 


	3. Chapter 2

“We could stop for a while,” Hanzo offers, turning his head to look back at Genji who's taking up the entire back of the rented Mercedes, feet up on the seat like he doesn't give a damn. He probably doesn't, haven't appeared to give a damn since Hanzo told him they were going to New Mexico and practically pushed a petulant Genji into the private jet. “see some of the American culture.”

“Like what?” Genji asks, voice perfectly disinterested as he thumbs the controls on his Nintendo Switch. “A huge ball of yarn? A huge doughnut? A huge hole in the ground?”

Hanzo shrugs, catching sight of a road sign. “They say everything is bigger here.”

“I'd try to make `the bigger the better´ sound cool, too, if I was a clumsy, boisterous giant.” comes Genji's biting reply, but Hanzo is satisfied, because sarcasm aside it is an actual conversation.

They had touched down on a landing strip yesterday in Angel Fire, New Mexico where a modest sized rented condo was already waiting for them, set up with Genji's machines and their few necessities. As children they had both been raised with traditional values, an upbringing that some would call spartan in comparison to a Western way of life. Focus had been turned inwards on principles rather than belongings and Hanzo had tried to keep to that way after their parents had been killed, even if he had allowed Genji a more free and material upbringing to make up for always being gone. Some would call Genji spoiled, but Hanzo did not agree; a spoiled child did not know the value of the things they took for granted, but Genji did, even if he didn't always act like it.

A large group of motorbikes passes the car, coming down from the peak, and Genji lifts his head to watch them roar past. Hanzo notes the interest in Genji's features, sparse as they are now with his burned skin and mask that covers much of his face, but his eyes are alive and curious.

“You like motorbikes?” Hanzo asks, thinking too late that maybe this is something he should know about Genji already, if he had spent time with him. Luckily Genji doesn't take affront.

“Anything that goes fast,” He says, sounding wistful, with just a sting of enmity, when he adds, “But I don't think I could now.”

“Maybe we can strap a rocket to your suit.” Hanzo says, looking at Genji in the rear-view mirror. Genji rolls his eyes at him with all the attitude of a teen-novel hero.

Instead of continuing towards the peak, Hanzo turns left and takes them deeper into the forest, until pine meets cottonwood, and then all at once the woods thin and a vast slope of dry dirt and low scrubs stretch out in front of them.

“This is it.” Hanzo says, looking at the car's GPS.

Genji cranes his neck and absently puts the console away. “Seriously? There's nothing here.”

“Maybe that's the point.”

The ranch is bigger than Hanzo had expected, and more modern, too. There's a barn, sure, but there is also a pool and what appears to be an array of out door skate ramps. Along the shore of a lake formed as a horse shoe stands a string of smaller houses, not too different from the one they have in the village, and off to the side is a fold.

When Hanzo opens the door of the car a very old mastiff lifts his head from the front porch and lumbers over. Genji eyes it warily.

“I'm going to go find who ever is responsible,” Hanzo says. “Do you want to come?”

“No.” Genji simply says as the dog walks over to stick his big head through Genji's rolled-down window. It sniffs him and wags its tail.

Hanzo doesn't have to look far. As he rounds the corner of the front porch he is met with laughter and is just in time to see a girl run full speed towards the pool and do an elaborate flip before unceremoniously splashing butt first into the clear water.

“Hello. Can we help you?” comes a woman's voice from behind him and Hanzo turns from the group to face her. She has tawny skin and graying hair, even if she doesn't look to be that much older than Hanzo, going by her face and the way she carries herself. She is dressed in tight pants and a loose shirt with a belt around her waist. She looks at Hanzo with polite expectation and hands resting on her hips.

“I am here to see Jesse McCree.” Hanzo says and gives a small bow in lieu of an introduction. The woman raises her eyebrows, small smile playing on her lips. Then she looks at Hanzo, sizing him up.

“Well, if you're serious about that, you can find him just down that road, tending the horses.” She says and points down a dust track leading to the stables, and Hanzo bows and thanks her. She smiles and shakes her head, muttering to herself as she goes to join the people at the pool.

Finding Jesse McCree is easy, since there are no detours and only one man at the stables, brushing down a brown stallion as he mutters soothing nonsense to it.

“Howdy.” The cowboy says when Hanzo is close enough, making Hanzo think that he was likely spotted coming in. The man is tanned, with a mop of unruly, dirty-blond hair and dark-brown eyes. He's wearing a weathered cowboy hat and an honest-to-god _seraph,_ and looks exactly as ridiculous as every gunslinger in every cowboy movie ever made. If they weren't so far away from everything Hanzo would have assumed the man to be an extra in a western or one of those people who walk around in the cities, trying to get tourists to eat at their Texas-themed restaurant.

“Can I help ya?” The cowboy asks and Hanzo realizes he's been staring.

“We spoke. On the phone.” He says quickly.

“Is that so?” The cowboy furrows his brows, no doubt struggling to recall any such event.

“My name is Hanzo Shimada.” He says, remembering to present his given name first. “I called you about a Dragon spirit.”

The cowboy huffs. “Now that I do recall.” McCree fastens the brush to a leather belt that hangs low on his hips, giving the horse a gentle pad that sends it wandering off. “I have ta say, I thought you were pullin' my leg with that, still kinda am, but at the moment I'm just a little stumped as to why you're here.”

Hanzo straightens his posture. The cowboy is unsurprisingly bigger than him, taller and broad from physical labor, where Hanzo's muscles comes from rigid combat training, but Hanzo knows how to make himself look uncompromising. “You refused to come to Hanamura, and as I told you: this is important.”

“Well, as I recall, I said somethin' along the line of me not havin' the time.” McCree says, looking equal parts inconvenienced and puzzled, but just as Hanzo gets ready to pull out his rehearsed pitch the cowboy sighs and scratches his neck. “But I suppose, since you're here now.”

“So you will help me?”

“I'll try, is the best I can offer, givin' as I've never worked with a Dragon spirit before.”

“The spirit will not be the problem,” Hanzo assures him. “I just want you to meet Genji, see if you can get a feel for his emotional blockage. And if you still don't think you can do anything for him, then we'll be on our way.”

On the way back to the main building Hanzo tells the story and McCree listens. He doesn't press for details, just nods and hums. From the dirt road Hanzo can see the car. Genji has opened the door and is sitting cross-legged in the opening, petting the dog as he appears to hold up a conversation with it. Hanzo wonders what Genji tells the dog, if he tells it all the things he refuse to say to Hanzo or his therapist.

“That's Bastion.” McCree says, “Sweetest spirit on the Overwatch.”

“The Overwatch?”

“The ranch. We call it the Overwatch.” McCree frowns then. “Didn't anyone introduce you to the place when you arrived?”

“I met a woman,” is all Hanzo can think to say, “She sent me your way.”

“How thoughtful. Egyptian?”

“Perhaps.”

“Well, that can only be Ana, then. There's only her and Angela 'round here, who qualifies a women, and you'd know our Swizz lamb wasn't Egyptian as soon as looking at her, 'cause she's fair as a porcelain doll and twice as pretty as one. Not that Ana isn't pretty,” He babbles on, but his drawl is calming, so Hanzo doesn't mind. “But she's the closest I have to real family, so I tend not to think about her that way.”

“What exactly do you do around here, Mr. McCree?” Hanzo asks when the cowboy ends his rant. “At the Overwatch.”

“Well, I consult, mostly. We have a lot of broken spirits come through here, some belonging to people, some belonging to animals. Never had nothing as fancy as a Dragon come though here, mind, but I did recently help out a shaman, which was grueling work. Right now is low season, though, just a couple of show jumpers, a motley crew of posh show dogs and a couple of maltreated animals from a decommissioned circus.”

“Are they not patients, then?” Hanzo asks, nodding towards the mosaic group of people at the pool area.

McCree gives a low chuckle. “A few of the people we help sticks around and they become like family, one way or another.” He takes off his hat and swipes a hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes. “Jack Morrison is the man in charge of the institute, and Doctor Ziegler over-there,” McCree points out a smiling, blonde woman and waves her over, “she likes to poke fun of people's diet and habits.” McCree raises his voice slightly at the last bit, enough that the Doctor can hear it as she approaches, and she smiles at the jab, swatting at McCree when she comes within range. She really does look like a porcelain doll, Hanzo thinks, bright-eyed and spotless.

“I'm Doctor Ziegler, but you can call me Angela.” She extends a hand, grip firm as Hanzo shakes it. “I'm in charge of the Mercy project.”

“I've heard of that,” Hanzo admits, “War Veterans, right?”

“That's right.” She beams at him, voice lilting and pleasant. They exchange a few stories, enough that Hanzo decides that the doctor is both qualified and earnest in her interest to help people.

Before letting Hanzo go Angela offers them room at the institute, which Hanzo decides to take when he and Genji reach the rented condo and he realizes how low on battery Genji's suit is after just half a day. If they are to spend any prolonged time at the Overwatch Genji will need his machines close, not only for convenience, but also in case of emergency.

 

 

 Jesse McCree hums to himself as he moves around the kitchen, turning the heat on the stove down to a simmer, before opening the refrigerator to look through the selections of greens that Angela insists accompanies all evening meals. He picks a bag of carrots, a few beet roots and apples, grates them into a bowl and adds a few handfuls of raisins to the mix.

“You seem to be in a good mood.” Ana says, walking in on him as he is putting the finishing touch on the stew and he holds out a spoon for her to taste, watches as she blows and sips up the liquid.

“You're improving,” she says, “although you might want to consider trying a couple of new spices, if they are going to eat with us.”

“What's wrong with chili?” Jesse demands, clutching his heart in a display of exaggerated hurt.

“It's not the only spice,” She says, “and the kids have to eat it, too.”

“Fareeha already has more hair on her chest than me.” Jesse points out, earning himself a slap on the upper arm that stings a hell of a lot more than Angela's playful swat had done earlier.

“I'll have no words from you about my daughter's chest.” Ana berates.

“Don't worry, it ain't flat enough for me to notice.” Jesse pokes back, giving Ana a sly grin over his shoulder as he reaches for a stack of plates in the top cabinet, handing them off to her when she offers. Slowly and methodically she starts setting the table, and even if Jesse couldn't feel the tension drifting in, it would still be clear as day that there's something on her mind. It ain't hard to figure out what it is, either.

“You think I'm in the wrong, don't you? Taking this job.”

She seems to consider his words, or maybe she's just taking the time to pick her own. “You know your own limits better than anyone,” she finally says, “but I can't pretend I'm comfortable with you working with ancient spirits again.”

“I won't be working with the spirit,” Jesse argues a bit too quickly, but at least that should prove to Ana that he's given it thought. “I'll be working with an injured kid, who's angry and lost.”

“Sounds like someone I used to know.” Ana points out and Jesse isn't going to pretend he hasn't thought the same thing. If he's being honest with himself, though, that's not the only reason he agreed to take this job, but Ana probably knows that, too, which is why, when she adds, “Just you be careful,” Jesse isn't sure if she's still talking about the Spirit or if she is talking about Hanzo Shimada.

Not a minute later Angela and Lucio enters the kitchen, drawn in by the smell of food, and they are followed by Jack and Gabe, then Lena, Hana and Fareeha laughing together, and Reinhardt making up the rear. They all find their seats around the table and Jesse starts filling plates as they are passed around.

“He seemed polite and very committed to his brother's recovery.” Angela is the first to say, but she had also been the only other person besides Ana and Jesse to interact with Hanzo.

“He was gorgeous,” Hana says bluntly, sniffing her plate. “And this smells delicious.”

Jesse tries very hard not to have favorites.

 


	4. Chapter 3

Jesse always rises early, not because he absolutely has to, but because the enclosed air of the bedroom and the soft mattress underneath him makes him feel trapped as soon as he wakes. The first few years after Gabriel found him and took him in Jesse had slept in a tent pitched by the lake, but now that he's a grown man he has to make an effort to resemble an adult. And adults live in houses and sleep in beds.

It's fine, though, no point in snoozing when there are chores to be done and people to feed. He splits the kitchen duty evenly with Reinhardt, but there is no denying the kids like Jesse's pancakes better than the gray, sticky porridge Reinhardt makes for them. When Fareeha and Lena were wee kids they would rise with the chickens and join Jesse in the kitchen, but those days are long since gone. Hana will sometimes come waddling out early and take up a chair by the kitchen table, one knee pulled up and arms wrapped around it as she watches Jesse flip pancakes, but Jesse knows it's because she has nightmares and that takes the pleasure out of her company. She is better now, though. A year later and she can finally sleep through most of her nights, and it's been four mounts since she last woke them all with her spine-chilling screams of outright terror.

The Overwatch is a home for many broken people. Jack and Gabriel had started it right after the war, thinking that there would be others like them that needed a place to mend from the horrors they had seen in combat. They had been right. Soon after Ana joined the staff with a baby Fareeha on her hip and Angela joined five years ago, when the Overwatch became so popular that Jack decided they needed a licensed doctor on call. Jesse isn't sure when Jack and Gabriel adopted Lena, but she was there, rosy-cheeked toddler, when Gabriel brought Jesse here, and that was near seventeen years ago.

People mill through, some finding clarity, some peace of mind. Some stick around and become part of the family, like Reinhardt, who was the first of their guests who just kind of never left. Lucio is their newest member, fresh out of a drug addiction his former manager forced on him, and then there's Hana of course, the youngest war veteran the Overwatch has ever seen.

Helping animals is a side project that's great for publicity as well as their income, and it never ceases to amaze Jesse how much rich people are willing to pay when it comes to their pets and horses, but saying that he preferred to help animals over Spirits is a tall tale he's become quite comfortable telling in the past few years.

He was good at helping Spirits, better than anyone else, and he could say that without a shade of arrogance, because it was just a fact. He took pride in it, sure. Who wouldn't be proud at being the best at something? But it came at a price that, as the years passed, became too high and nearly lost him his own mind.

He had cut down after that, but he hadn't been able to cut it out of his life entirely, mostly from lack of trying. Once in a while he would agree to consult on high-profile excavations or hyped PR adventures, just to put the Overwatch back in the news, and sometimes wild spirits would seek him out on their own and Jesse would never dream of turning those away.

This thing with Genji is different, though. It's like the jobs Jesse used to take, before things went to the dogs. Ana had every right to worry about him, given his history, but not a lot of cause. Jesse is in a perfectly good place right now and perfectly capable of handling one broken young man and his ancient Dragon. Even if said young man came attached to the most gorgeous man Jesse has seen this side of the Pacific. So what if he has a thing for Asians and their delicate features, lots of people do, and Hanzo has the added bonus of being build like a pit-fighter and have the kind of closed-off personality that just begs for Jesse to unravel him.

From his place by the door Bastian lifts his head, droopy eyes alert, and he gets to his feet and pads out of the kitchen, tail wagging. He never barks at the guests, which is a blessing, because he can look a little daunting with his massive size, and they don't want to scare people away at the door. Jesse casts a look at the clock, dries off his hands and follows the dog outside just as the small convoy of a black Mercedes and two large vans pull into the parking lot.

Over in the training area Gabriel is drilling Hana, Lucio and Lena in a series of combat moves. Jesse sometimes joins them, just to keep in shape, but he opts out of the one-on-ones they have later in the day. He could probably take all of them in a dishonest fight. Probably. Not that they don't know how to fight dirty, too, which they prove by choosing that moment to gang up on their mentor and Jesse hears Gabriel cuss up a storm before roaring with laughter as the three overtakes him. He feels a stab of jealousy, unfounded and unwanted, and tears his eyes away to let them settle on the new arrivals instead.

Hanzo is the first to get out of the car, while Genji seems reluctant to follow. Jesse lets his own mind stretch out and instantly meets a wall of despair and anger, which he chooses not to challenge, instead just feeling around it to get a sense of Genji as a person. It's not the first time he meets someone this broken, but it never gets easier.

“Welcome, Shimada-san.” Jesse says and gives a small bow. Angela had laughed at him last night when she heard he had called him Mr. Hanzo, and graciously filled him in on the proper ways to address Hanzo and Genji.

Hanzo gives him a courteous bow in return, before his eyes moves from Jesse to the bundle of people laughing over in the training area, note of mild curiosity and distraction on his face. Hanzo had said yesterday that he and Genji grew up with a certain level of discipline and strict training, and for a moment Jesse wonders what the business man makes of their way of training here. He never gets a chance to ask, however, because just then Ana appears in the door behind Jesse, warm smiles for everyone.

“Mr. Shimada.” Ana says, “Let's get you settled before we give you and Genji the grand tour.”

Jesse takes that as a dismissal for him, too, and turns to intercept the group of people moving in from the training area, throwing one last glance at Hanzo, just because he likes the view.

“So, are they seriously real life ninjas?” Lucio demands, when Jesse reaches them. Too curious to be polite they all stretch their necks to look at the guests, but at least they follow Jesse when he herds them away from the parking lot, leaving three bulky men to unload big machines from the vans.

“I suppose they are.” Jesse says, “And I assume you'll get a chance to meet them both later, and when you do I expect you to act civil.”

“You know I'm Korean, right?” Hana points out, sweaty-faced and hair in disarray. “I know proper etiquette. Better than you, calling him Mr. Hanzo.”

“Did Angela tell you?” Jesse demands, “That traitor!”

 

 

Jesse McCree knocks on the door to the Shimada Cabin just before lunch. In the high season patients usually take their meals in the recreational area along with the guests, fancy catered food for fancy people, but right now there are only a couple of patients and no guests, so Ana had suggested that they offer the Shimadas to dine with the family.

It's Genji who answers the door, giving Jesse a long, critical look before opening to let him in. Hanzo can't help but notice that his eyes are the exact same shape as Hanzo's, same dark color, too, although free of the few lines that gives Hanzo's age away. They are also the only place on Genji that seems to have escaped the fire, probably because Genji had been covering them.

“I thought Hanzo was kidding.” The young man says with a slightly artificially resonating voice and sits back in front of the screen, unpausing the game. Jesse assumes he's referring to the cowboy getup he wears, but he doesn't ask. Instead he takes the time to look Genji over.

Jesse hadn't gotten a good look at the young man yesterday, but Hanzo wasn't exaggerating when he talked about the extensive damage his brother had suffered. Genji's lower body is encased in metal, from the soles of his feet to the middle of his waist. It's movable parts, but woven together in a way that makes Jesse think of a suit of armor. His chest is free, covered in a sharp pink t-shirt, but his right arm is completely bionic, from his shoulder to his fingertips. His neck and left arm is the only parts of him uncovered, showing signs of stem-cell grafts, and he is wearing a mask that covers his mouth and nose, which Hanzo had said yesterday was necessary for Genji to breathe. He is wearing a green knitted cap, maybe to cover that fact that his hair had been singed off.

He can hear Hanzo talking in the next room, loudly and in Japanese, so Jesse assumes he's on the phone. He waits and watches Genji shoot down terrorists on the screen.

“Those machines, they yours?” Jesse asks, both because he's curious, but also just to get Genji talking, begin figuring him out.

Genji nods, but doesn't take his eyes off the screen, not even to press the buttons on his controller.

“They seem expensive.” Jesse tries again.

“Probably. They're custom made.” Genji says and then with a sigh, he adds, “This one keeps me breathing when I take off my mask,” he points at a silicon-covered collar with a tube that likely connects directly to his windpipe, “like when I sleep or shower. This one charges my exo-suit. The gray one is my dialysis, cleans my blood every morning and every night before I go to sleep. The small blue one is a remote regulator for my internal climate control and that one over there runs test twice a day to make sure I'm still alive.” The last line drips of sarcasm and Jesse can't blame him. It's a lot.

“Yeah,” He nods instead, “I can see why that would come in handy.”

“Are you a real cowboy?” Genji blurts out, like he's been gearing up for it, and he finally turns his head to look at Jesse.

“I suppose I am.” Jesse says, nodding. “Are you a real cyborg ninja?”

“I suppose I am.” Genji parrots, but the spite in his voice falls to the floor because of how nervously he is fiddling with the controller in his hands.

 _Just a big kid, not as hard as he likes to appear._ Those had been Ana's words, seventeen years ago.

“Tell you the truth,” Jesse says lightly, taking off his hat to scratch the back of his neck, “I weren't always a cowboy. In fact, I'm not sure I am now. I ain't never driven cattle a day in my life. I was a gunslinger, see.”

“What's the difference?” Genji asks. He never paused his game and on screen his character is running into a wall, face first, and just keeps running. Jesse, somehow, relates.

“Well, there ain't a lot unless you ask a lawman.” he says with a coy smile.

“It's the same with my brother.” Genji says, finally noticing his character. With a quick press of buttons the game logs off and pulls up a logo screen. “That's how the Empire works. You take money from people and you're a thief, but if you do it in a sharp suit with lawyers and paperwork you're a businessman.”

That makes Jesse smile. “So your brother is a real hardass, hu?”

“In a way. He's not really used to taking no for an answer.”

“Is that right? So he's strict with you?” When Genji sends him an odd look and Jesse raises his hands. “Hey, I'm just trying to understand.”

“He's not that bad.” Genji says, fingers still fiddling with the controller and Jesse wonders if he's aware of doing it. “Not like the Elders. He gives a lot of himself and he expects to get it back. It's just the way he was raised. I don't think he really enjoys it.”

Jesse nods, but he doesn't comment. There's a few things to start on and the rest will come as he and Genji get to know each other. The young man seems to have been isolated, likely to protect him, but Jesse thinks he could probably use a friend, which is technically a slightly amoral approach, but Jesse didn't get to be as good as he is by doing things like any other shrink.

When Hanzo joins them he looks collected, not at all like a man who just spent the past twenty minutes or more yelling at people on the phone. He's wearing tight black jeans and a dark gray tucked-in shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, but really, Jesse just gets stuck on the hair.

Hanzo seems to notice, small smile playing on his lips. “The Empire has rules, dress codes.” He explains. “I used to wear my hair like this when I was younger, before I took over, and with the heat here-”

“No, it suits you.” Jesse says, without having to think about it, because he has never met a man who could pull off an undercut while still looking like a hardball businessman. He clears his throat. “So how about I show you around?”

They walk with Genji between them as Jesse tells the Shimada brothers about The Overwatch and its history. Once in a while Genji asks questions, but the only time he betrays a note of actual emotion is when they walk past the garage in the north end of the Recreational Building and he spots Reinhardt working on his giant, custom-made Harley.

While Genji is momentarily distracted Jesse takes the opportune to turn to Hanzo.

“I have to say, it's been a long time since I worked with ancient spirits.” he admits.

“Are they so different?”

“Different from an animal, yeah. Different form a person? Not so much.” Jesse scratches his scruff. “They're stubborn, though, easily offended. Some can be vicious, some playful.”

“Genji's Dragon will not come out.” Hanzo says and at the mention of his name Genji looks over. “Not as long as she feels unwelcome.”

“Calling any spirit is a long way off.” Jesse says, addressing Genji who suddenly looks anxious. “I'd love to promise that I can help, but I don't know Genji, so I can't tell what I'm workin' with here.”

He feels the eyes of both Shimada brothers weighing on him, but he keeps his attention on the youngest. “Genji, if I'm gonna have a snowball's chance of helping you, I'm gonna need you to help me help you, you understand?”

“Like what?” Genji asks.

“For starters I'll build you a program. It's gonna involve getting up early, working hard and paying attention.”

“Sounds like back home.” Genji says flatly, eyes shifting back to Reinhardt as he kicks life into his bike.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Jesse knocks on the door to the Shimada Cabin at six o'clock the next morning. Hanzo answers, looking tired but gorgeous all the same, and he gestures for Jesse to come in. Genji is in the living room, clicking panels on his exo-suit, and he's wearing the collar instead of his mask. It shouldn't surprise Jesse how much Genji looks like his brother, facial features finer and softer, but not by any margin enough to make him look feminine. He will grow to look as regal as his brother in time, even if he has to hide most of his face under a mask.

Genji's breathing collar connects directly to his windpipe, circumventing his vocal cords, which explains why he doesn't wear it all the time, because since getting to know Genji a bit better yesterday Jesse has learned that the kid doesn't do quiet mode. In the time it takes him to get the mask on and unequip the collar Jesse has already seen and felt Genji choke back ten comments and questions.

“Are we really shoveling horse shit?” is the first thing Genji manages, while Hanzo checks that his air support system is in order.

“Sure am.” Jesse says and watches as Hanzo takes a vial and slides it into a small pocket in Genji's exo-suit, which gives off a small hiss of vacuum as it closes. Hanzo had explained yesterday that Genji couldn't eat real food, because his kidneys were too damaged to filter the waste out of his blood, which also explains the dialysis. Instead he is given a cocktail of vitamins, minerals and amino acids four times a day.

 

 

“So how are you liking the States?” Jesse asks, as he and Genji are brushing down a black mare two hours later, adding, “Horse shit not withstanding.”

“It's okay.” Genji says and shrugs, but he lost his indifferent tone a while back. “To tell you the truth, I only agreed to come here because I didn't think Hanzo would actually go through with it. He's very dedicated to the Empire. Spends all his time working.”

“So he doesn't have a, eh-” Jesse stops, unwilling to offer a gender to Hanzo's preferences.

“Boyfriend?” Genji asks and he sounds amused at the thought, or maybe he's just amused that Jesse would ask. “No.”

Jesse feels something resembling childish, giddy glee bubble up behind his rib cage, but he manages to keep his face and voice neutral, mostly.

“So he never really has the chance to-?”

“Get laid?” Genji offers. “No.”

“I was going to say 'date' but-”

“You were not!” Genji says and for the first time Jesse hears him laugh, and even if it is short it is contagious enough that Jesse laughs with him.

“You're cheeky, cabron.” He says, pointing an accusing finger at Genji.

“Funny, Gabriel used the same word.” Genji says, dark eyes glinting. “What does it mean?”

“You like Gabriel?” Jesse ask, deflecting so he doesn't have to translate the swear word, which Hanzo probably wouldn't thank him for.

“Yeah, he seems cool. Broody and a little tense, but that doesn't bother me, I grew up with Hanzo.” Genji says and there is a note of something soft in his voice, like adoration. No doubt Genji looks up to Hanzo, but there's pain there too, a tell that Genji isn't getting what he needs from his idol, which, hell, Jesse can relate.

The conversation sticks with Jesse for the rest of the day, as he sends Genji along to join the rest of the young ones in the training area. From the sideline he watches Genji struggle to move his limbs, much like he had while they cleaned out the stables. He is wobbly on his feet, balance off, and his coordination with his bionic hand is absolutely shit, but underneath it all is a nerve-deep control that is trying to adapt to the new body. All in all it seems that Genji's body is adapting faster than Genji's mind is.

No doubt Genji has spent hours upon hours training poise and stance in the dojo back home before the attack, but that just seems to make it harder for Genji to accept that his body is different now. From having known every muscle, the exact force needed to move, the weight of every limb, to suddenly having to deal with moving around in a suit of armor, dealing with an arm that's not his own, losing all that familiar grace. No wonder Genji is angry, who wouldn't be?

People get through hard times, loss and trauma all the time. Shit happens and the world moves on and you either learn to move with it or you become dust. That doesn't mean the pain isn't real, though, isn't valid. The sooner you learn that the better chance you have at helping others.

Which makes Jesse wonder, because despite Hanzo appearing to be a caring brother and despite Genji obviously looking up to him, trusting him and being willing to defend him, Hanzo seems to be unwilling, or at least unable, to help his little brother. Jesse isn't ready to make any judgments, but it seems that Hanzo might be stuck somewhere in a trauma of his own. Which would also explain why he spends so much time working and training.

Well, the training might be down to the fact that Hanzo apparently isn't getting laid, but Jesse can't really put that into his report.

 

 

Hanzo and Genji initially only joins the Overwatch staff for dinners, but as the days pass Hanzo realizes that despite his silence at the table Genji seems to be enjoying the atmosphere and they start coming to every meal. Genji doesn't eat, of course, but after the first evening where Hanzo explains why, no one acts differently because of it. In fact the staff, which McCree explains is more of a family, seems to be quick and absolute in their acceptance of Genji and Hanzo's presence. Despite his best efforts Hanzo cannot understand how people can just slot together like this to make a family, but at the same time he finds himself believing wholly that the people around the table are just that.

“You should take the time while you're here to see some of the sights.” Jack Morrison - insisting on _Jack -_ says, passing a plate of scrambled eggs to Hanzo. “It's not all dust and cacti.”

“No, we also have rocks.” Reyes adds, earning him a kick under the table from his husband.

“You should go see Angel Peak, at least.” Ana says, “Maybe hire a helicopter and fly over the ridges of Shiprock.”

“Or ride a hot air balloon to catch the sunset over the Rio Grande.” young miss Song suggests, the dreamy tone of her voice making it sound like the most romantic activity imaginable. Hanzo can't help but notice the way Genji's eyes are always drawn to her, which is not surprising, as she seems both clever and funny, besides being a pretty young woman.

“It certainly all sounds worth considering,” Hanzo says, choosing not to comment on the fact that day trips are near impossible for Genji, who needs to stay close to his machines. Across from him McCree catches his eyes and gives him a smile that Hanzo doesn't quite know what to do with. Too late he thinks that it would have been polite to return it.

It's not until after lunch that Hanzo learns what the smile had meant, as McCree finds him on the porch, looking down on lake where Genji, Lucio and Hana are skipping stones and laughing. Hanzo isn't sure when he last heard Genji laugh, but a good guess would be a while before the attack.

“I've been watching you interact with Genji since you came here,” McCree says, quickly adding, “'cause it's my job, an' all.”

Hanzo looks up, meeting McCree's asserting gaze. His words are no surprise; Hanzo has noticed McCree looking. He had found the constant scrutiny unnerving at first, a fact that more than anything made Hanzo uncomfortable, because Hanzo has been weighed and judged his entire life. It should not feel different now, but it does, because Jesse McCree is the kind of man who looks into a person's spirit.

“And what have you found?” Hanzo asks, intoning it as much as a dare as a question, just to see if McCree is brave enough to lay some hard truths on him, or if he will stick to polite observations like the therapists back home.

“That you're more of a parent to him than an older brother, which can be explained by the age gab. That you're careful with him, but not soft on him. You don't let him wallow in self-pity, but you don't push him either. And just now, at dinner,” McCree smiles again, the same smile from dinner. “You know Genji can't leave his machines, but you didn't point that out.”

“Genji doesn't need people reminded of his limits.” Hanzo says, habitual dismissal slipping into his tone, so he amends, “Especially not here where the other young ones seem to forget them so easily.”

“See, that's what I'm talking about.” McCree says, taking off his hat and putting it down on the railing of the porch, the gesture and his voice loaded with frustration, “You understand him and you care about him, which is why it makes no sense to me, you know,” McCree continues, sweeping a hand through his hair, “why you think you can't help him heal.”

At the words Hanzo feels the ever-present knot of anger in his chest tighten; anger at himself and his own failings, anger at the person he is and the person he isn't.

“Genji needs to see that he can heal in time.” Hanzo says, trying not to sound as tightly wound as he feels, “He needs someone to show him that he is not broken, that he is worth being loved. I cannot show him these things.”

“You don't consider yourself a role model.” McCree guesses easily, too easily. Hanzo has to remind himself that figuring people out is McCree's job, and Hanzo had chosen him because he is the best at what he does.

“Far from it.” Hanzo admits, preparing to answer the questions he knows will come. Once more McCree surprises him, this time by not asking. Instead Hanzo's confession is answered by a pensive hum and a stretch of silence.

“So, you've never told me if you have a Dragon like Genji.” the cowboy asks a few moments later, picking up his hat, but not putting it on. The subject has changed but somehow it feels to Hanzo like they are still having the same conversation, so he takes in McCree, the way he is leaning on the railing, one leg crossed over the other as he fiddles with his hat. If Hanzo didn't know better he would say the cowboy was nervous, but surely McCree would not work with ancient spirits if simply the thought of them made him nervous.

“I have two.” Hanzo says, eyes weighing on McCree to catch every tinge of his reaction. He is used to the most common reactions; fear, unease, even disbelief. Not many people in this world can boast about having a connection to a spirit, even fewer has been blessed with the company of one of the ancients. Having two of them at his command is not unheard of, but close enough that the Shimada Empire has no lack of neither benefactors nor enemies; people putting their faith in the legend or wanting desperately to destroy it.

McCree's reaction is very different, and much more interesting. His mouth falls open, just enough to let out a heavy breath and even in the low light of the setting sun Hanzo can see his eyes have darkened. Not fear then.

“Oh, that sounds-” McCree tries, but he has to swallow. Hanzo tries to remember if anyone else has ever had this reaction before. If they have Hanzo didn't care enough about them to notice. Apparently he cares what McCree thinks.

“Impressive?” Hanzo offers, a soft tease that surprises even himself. What is even more surprising is the fact that it feels like flirting.

“I was gonna go with “exhausting”, but yeah, pretty impressive.” McCree is trying to sound nonchalant, but he must know that he can't hide his fluster and Hanzo isn't sure if he's even trying, “How do you control them?”

“Control them?” Hanzo laughs, just to watch a blush creep into McCree's cheeks.

The cowboy rubs his neck, giving Hanzo a smile to mask his nervousness. “Yeah. Do you usually just let them do their own thing or do you have commands and such?”

“I run a business empire, not a fight club. I do not need my Dragons dancing around me.”

That gets McCree on his feet, pushing off the railing to his full height, taking a step closer so he's towering over Hanzo. He could have looked intimidating like that, if it wasn't for the fact that he has the look of a confused puppy on his face. “Wait, you're tellin' me you have two ancient Dragon spirits linked to you and you never bring them out to do their Dragon thing?”

“Dragon thing?” Hanzo echoes, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. You know.” Jesse says, which Hanzo does, but pretends he doesn't just to see the cowboy get even more flustered. It's a good look on him, Hanzo decides.

Then he hears the roar.

 

 

It's been a while, years really, since Genji last had the chance to simply hang out like this, with young people his own age and talk about silly things. No pressure to perform, no bodyguard looming, no deadlines and no family image to uphold. These people doesn't know the Shimada Empire, has never even heard of Hanamura. Here he can be Genji, plain and simple. And the best thing is that Lucio and Hana have their own scars, their own nightmares, and even though Lena and Fareeha doesn't, they are used to being around people who does.

A week in and he already feels he can be himself here. He can make jokes, and even if they fall to the floor, the others seems to think his lack of social skills is charming, rather than off-putting.

“So,” Genji asks, as he, Hana and Lucio sit by the shore, far enough away from the main buildings that it feels like the three of them are alone. Across the lake Fareeha and Lena are having a muted conversation, heads stuck together, “what do you do for fun around here?”

“Don't look at me,” Lucio says, putting up both hands to ward off the question, “I'm here because I had too much fun already.”

It's a self-deprecating comment of the kind Genji's old therapist would have jutted down in his file with a concerned frown. It's not true, either; Genji knows as much. Just like the rest of them, Lucio doesn't talk too much about himself, or about why he is here in the middle of nowhere at the tender age of eighteen, working off a drug addiction, but Genji is smart enough to piece together that the drugs hadn't been something Lucio wanted to begin with.

“Do you really have a Dragon spirit?” Hana asks, elbowing him.

“In a way. She isn't mine, but she has chosen me. She follows me and will fight for me, protect me.” Genji tries to explain.

“So she's here right now?” Lucio asks.

“Just out of sight. I used to bring her out when I was younger and I thought I was the only one who could see her, because no one around Shimada Castle would acknowledge her.” Genji says. “It turned out they were scared of her and I never understood, because she was so gentle with me, so playful and beautiful.”

“Can we see her?” Hana asks breathlessly, her undivided attention and the plea in her voice almost intoxicating. Genji finds himself wanting to do whatever she asks, even though the thought of calling his Dragon again makes his chest tighten and the palms of his hands sweaty.

Hanzo had said she would not be called while she felt unwanted, and at the time the words had left Genji feeling anger and self-loathing, because his Dragon wasn't unwanted, had never been, but it was true that Genji was scared of her. Although, working though his fear was part of the reason why Genji was here, so maybe calling his Dragon would be a good first step. If she was willing to answer.

The words fall from his lips in a whisper and the green of her scales flicker in to view, reflecting the sun into the clear and calm lake water, as if through a prism. The Dragon spirit herself is anything but calm, though. She twists and coils, keeping her distance, and Genji tries to reach out to her, beckoning her with his hand and his mind, but she is a spirit, her very being aligned with nature and balance, and Genji is a turmoil of pain, a mess of emotions and so very different from the young man she had known. She jerks her head, distress and sadness making her recoil from his outstretched hand.

Genji remembers the first time they met face to face in the dojo, with his father by his side, but the fear he felt then is strengthen this time, by the knowledge of what she is capable of. He sees his own fear reflected in her deep eyes; the fear that she might hurt him again, a fear that she is dangerous. He want to calm her, but at the same time he wants to back away, the indecisiveness making her even more anxious.

She roars then, a sound like no animal can make, half screech, half primal thunder, and it reverberates thought Genji's chest. That is when he realizes that the Spirit is looking from Lucio to Hana, trying to decide if ether of them are the cause of Genji's pain and fear, and then the horror in Genji truly sets in.

He hears the call, knows it by heart even if he has never heard the words called out in his brother's thunderous voice before, and the air crackles with ancient power. Hanzo's twin Dragons slips through the dry desert air, answering the roar of Genji's Dragon with near-sonic rumbles of their own. They intercept Genji's Dragon and intertwines with her, soothing her and guiding her away, leaving waves in the air as they slip out of sight.

Genji is left shaking, on his feet only because of his exo-suit. Lucio is shielding Hana with his body, but he looks like he has to keep himself from reaching out, to steady Genji. Hana looks on from behind him, more concerned that frightened. Genji barely has time to make anything of their expressions, because Hanzo is there. Nearly as thunderous as his Dragons.

“What were you thinking!” He demands, cowering Genji back with just the radiating anger he emits. Hanzo has never disciplined him, barely even raised his voice at him, but now Genji understands why so many people fear his brother.

“I wanted to prove I could handle her.” he mutters, sounding weak and petulant even to himself.

“Proving yourself like this, in front of your friends, is called showing off.” Hanzo stabs, no doubt one of their father's lessons that Genji never had the chance to learn. The thought, the unfairness of it - both that Hanzo got to learn from their father and that his older brother chooses this moment to teach it to Genji – makes Genji tighten up from base anger.

“You're the one who said she wouldn't come!” He yells. “You made me think she felt unwanted, when she is the only one in the world who truly cares about me, the only one who was there when mother and father died.” The comment obviously hits home, because Hanzo deflates visible, so Genji just continues spewing out his ire as tears sting in the corner of his eyes.

“And I'm surprised your Dragons will even still answer you.” Genji snarls, “You never cared about them, you don't even call them. You have this amazing gift and this unbelievable control and you don't even use it.”

“They're not a toy, Genji!” Hanso chides.

“And that's why I got hurt, right? Because I used my Dragon as a toy instead of a weapon, and I'm not disciplined enough and that's why I couldn't control her. That's why she- why she burned me!”

All anger has left Hanzo now, leaving in its place a man who looks as lost as Genji feels. “Genji, it was an accident.” Hanzo says, voice soothing. “it could have happened to anyone.”

“Not to you.” Genji says, fighting to hold back the tears. “Of course not. No, you have perfect control, you always had.”

When Genji runs off he feels his body work properly for the first time since before the attack. His legs carry him away, his muscles work until they burn from misuse. Blood rushes in his ears and he barely hears Hanzo calling his name.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

The mood during dinner that night is pressured, not necessarily dark, but there are no cheerful conversations about school or travels. Genji shows up slightly past time, late for Jack's muttered Grace, which seems to be more out of habit than actual faith. He looks windswept, but calm, giving his excuses as he sits next to Hanzo.

“I hope the young people weren't in any real danger today.” Jack says, as people start filling their plates.

“No,” Hanzo answers immediately, before Genji can open his mouth. “But if they were scared I apologize.”

“We weren't, Shimada-san.” Hana assures him, giving a small, but tight smile.

“We asked to see one Dragon spirit and got to see three.” Lucio adds quickly, forking a sausage onto his plate, “How is that not cool?”

“If you're in need of excitement, I will gladly take your sorry ass on out on the mats.” Reyes says and there is a glint in his eyes that doesn't go away, even when Jack clears his throat in reprimand of the swearing. There are spread giggles and words of encouragement from around the table.

“Don't do it, Lucio,” McCree warns. “He'll take you out before you even see him moving.” His words are followed by another round of cheerful comments and a few dares.

“I'm really sorry if I made a mess of things.” Genji says suddenly, the words bubbling out of his mouth in a hurried string, and the whole room falls quiet, all eyes on Genji and Hanzo.

“Mistakes are made all the time.” Reinhards says, voice reassuring as he address the table as a whole more than Genji himself. “This is not a war zone and no one got injured. I think it wise we all remember that.”

“I thought is was cool.” Fareeha says, crossing her arms over her chest when her mother shoots her a stern look. “Mother and I was in Egypt last summer and we saw a Fakir that had a Petsuchos spirit, you know, a huge crocodile. That was really cool, but I actually think a Dragon is way cooler.”

“It was rather exciting.” Lena agrees. “Jesse thought so, too.”

“Shush!” McCree says from across the table where he is sitting next to Lena, but he's smiling and he has that flustered look again. “I ain't admittin' to any such thing.”

“Well, maybe you won't say it, because you have to pretend to be a grown up, but I saw the way you were gaping at Hanzo's Dragons.”

Hanzo pretends not to see McCree stabbing Lena with his fork, but it's hard to ignore her hiss of pain and the jab of, “Real mature, big brother!”

After the meal Hanzo tries to follow Genji outside, but his brother just asks to be left alone for now, and Hanzo doesn't want to pressure him, not yet. That is how he finds himself on the porch again and like earlier, it doesn't take long for McCree to join him.

“He is doing better.” Hanzo says, eyes following his younger brother as he meets up with Lucio and Hana, clearly not refusing their company the way he had Hanzo's.

“You talked to him?” McCree asks.

“Not yet. I don't know how to assure him that he will heal, when I myself have been incapable.”

“Maybe it'll shock him to see what might happen to him if he doesn't heal.”

“Funny.” Hanzo says, meeting McCree's teasing smile with a softer one of his own. Then he sighs. “Since we arrived I've found myself sitting out here every evening, looking at the land, at the mountains, and thinking maybe the land itself has healing powers.”

“That might be.” McCree says, tipping his hat back and Hanzo lets himself stare at the other man's face, at the scruffy beard, the weathered skin and the clear, brown eyes, their color much warmer then Hanzo's own. “But I also think it's the company.”

“It is good company.” Hanzo agrees, making McCree fluster once more. It seems to be his main reaction, taking very little effort for Hanzo to achieve.

“You know, I-” McCree starts, but nothing else comes and it doesn't seem like he quite knew what he wanted to say. “I should go clear the table.” he says then, “Reinhardt cooked, so It's my turn to clean.”

Hanzo watches him retreat with a smile on his lips, letting himself feel the brush of something fluttering inside his chest. It is an odd sensation after years of barely feeling a thing, but it is not an unwelcome one, he decides.

“You'll have to excuse my Jesse Quick.” Ana says when she appears in the door, almost as soon as McCree is out of sight. “He always was smooth at charming the girls, but as soon as it comes to something he actually wants...”

Hanzo tries not to let those words settle too deeply. He already knew that Jesse wanted him, but that doesn't mean it isn't nice to hear it confirmed from someone who knows the man better. From his family.

Ana must have seen something on his face, because she tilts her head. “What?”

“I love how you talk about him like he's your own.”

“He's close enough. You can't replicate a parent's love, but it didn't seem like Jesse had much to compare to. The girls, Lena and Fareeha, were just old enough to start learning how to talk properly, learn right from wrong. We started Jesse at the same level. Jack took a turn on Jesse's manners and the language, Gabriel took care of the attitude and the layers of pain and distrust.”

“He seems to respect Reyes a great deal.”

“Respect, absolutely. But it's a strained relationship. Gabriel always treated Jesse as a younger brother instead of a son. Jesse sees the way Gabe acts around the young ones now, like a father to them, and he feels cheated.”

“It can be difficult,” Hanzo says. “Figuring out where you stand with someone when the age gap is too much to be a brother and too small to be a father. Before we lost our parents Genji meant very little to me. I did not know him and I did not care to know him. He was a child and I was already a man. Then my parents were murdered and because I refused to bow to my enemy, they cut off my legs at the knees and left me for dead. For a long time after that I was too angry to pay mind to my baby brother, and when I finally found my way, well, as you said, you cannot replicate a parent's love.”

“Maybe what Genji needs is a brother's love?” Ana suggests, putting a comforting hand on Hanzo's back. It rests warm and steady between his shoulder blades and he cannot recall the last time anyone touched him with such comfort.

 

 

Hanzo finds Genji sitting on the dry-tipped grass between the cabin and the lake, staring over to the other side, where he had called his dragon earlier.

“I don't have perfect control.” Hanzo says, sitting next to Genji cross legged, close enough that his metal knee press against the panel of Genji's exo-suit. “I used to, that much is true, but I haven't been able to boast of such thing in ten years.”

“Since mother and father was killed.” Genji guesses easily.

“And I lost my legs,” Hanzo reminds him, because Genji tends to forget that Hanzo is also crippled. “Look, Genji, calling your Dragon spirit when you are out of balance and unfocused is dangerous. I know this from experience. That is why I so rarely call mine these days.” he folds his hands and rests his elbows on his knees as he leans forward. “I should have talked to you. About your Dragon, about our parents. About what I was going through. But you were the only thing I had left that was untainted by the memory of what happened to our parents and I didn't want to burden you. I was mistaken.”

“I was never mad at you.” Genji says, not meeting his eyes. “We were never close before our patents were killed. I didn't expect anything from you after. I just- I don't know why I made it a problem.”

“What you expected and and what you needed is not the same thing, Genji.” Hanzo says, feeling the tight coil of shame and anger sting again, but this time he pushes it away. “In truth, I might have healed better myself if I had let you near me. We both carried memories of our parents, but with no one to share them with they became empty, washed out. Our parents does not deserve to be forgotten like that.”

“Maybe you can tell me about them.” Genji suggests, his whole posture changing. “And maybe you can tell me about what happened that night, and about your legs.”

Hanzo smiles at his brother's eagerness, energetic on the verge of childish. “One story at a time.”

 

 

When Jesse wakes that morning it is with a soft, warm realization that he might have gone and gotten himself an untimely crush. He knows it's a bad idea, knew it right from the moment he laid eyes on Hanzo. Not only does Jesse barely know the man, but Hanzo also belongs 6000 miles away, in a castle, running an empire. Which was fine as long as Hanzo was just a gorgeous dude that Jesse could have dirty fantasies about and appreciate in passing glances, but getting to actually like him as a person is dangerous.

Ana had known it, too. She even warned him, but Jesse wasn't listening, not really, because Jesse had been sure he knew how to separate emotions and hormones. Enough gay men pass through the Overwatch, bringing their prized dog or murderous cat, and they have been great for a fun week of extra service, but Jesse never made the mistake of caring about any of them. Hell, most of them he could barely stand, but they had been great fucks all the same.

And in comes Hanzo, who hits all of Jesse's kinks, with his controlled posture, austere temper and god-damn gorgeous Asian constitution, and Jesse can have wet dreams about making stoic Hanzo a mess, but all it takes is Hanzo smiling at something Jesse said and suddenly Jesse is the mess. So yeah, he is a bit out of his depth, and he wishes he could blame the fact that Hanzo is something Jesse has never seen before, with enough authority and inner force to have two ancient Dragon spirits to his name, but the truth is that Jesse let this happen, let himself slip from day one.

Padding to the kitchen in bare feet and sweatpants, Jesse makes himself a cup of extra strong coffee, splash of milk, and takes it out on the patio in front of the Family House. From here he can see the training area where two backlit figures are standing side by side feet apart, bodies shifting around in slow synchronization. It's like a dance, graceful motions pushing and pulling at the air around them, as by design, each limb moving in a depiction of perfect control.

If the Shimada brothers at any point become aware of their one-man audience they do not show it.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Born in Vado as trailer park trash Jesse ran away from home as soon as he'd learned how to pick a pocket and he can't imagine his family ever missed him. Instead the red mountains of Las Cruces became the backdrop to his growing list of misdemeanors. He quickly learned that making allies and making enemies was two sides of the same coin, so instead Jesse taught himself to play both sides of the fence. He learned how to sweet talk the cops and keep well out of the way when _el cabecilla_ talked loyalty.

By the time he'd reached 13 he had the strategic awareness of a war-time general, patching up plans on the go and shifting resources to last himself another night, constantly strapping himself in for worst case scenarios and on the drift at O-dark-thirty more often than not. Maybe he wasn't a decorated war veteran like the others who came to the Overwatch, but Jesse McCree had still fought a war and Gabriel saw that right off the bat.

A man kills enough people and he thinks he's a killer. That was what Gabriel had told him then, and it's what Jesse tells Hanzo now, as they sit on the patch of dry grass in front of the Shimada Cabin.

“Gabriel was the one who showed me I wasn't a lone bastion, that it didn't have to be me against the world. He taught me how to look into people and see what's underneath all that swagger and poise. See, in my line of work, all that stuff that people usually find so important about themselves, like what they do for a living,” Jesse reaches up to poke an accusing finger at Hanzo's sternum, “or how many countries they've been to, or how many tricks they have up their sleeve, all of that is a shell that you have to peel off to get to the real person.” He lets his hand drop, brushing his knuckles down the front of that soft, pigeon gray shirt in a way that Hanzo can easily take as casual, if he wants.

Jesse ain't even sure what he prefers anymore; Hanzo ignoring his clumsy attempts at seduction or Hanzo catching his wrist then and there and pulling him into a kiss that will surely undo them both. Jesse knows which one he'd appreciate more, but at 32 Jesse McCree has a real terrible track record when it comes to choosing the things that are good for him.

Hanzo doesn't grab his wrist, but he doesn't ignore Jesse's touch completely either. Instead his face softens, crinkles appearing by his eyes, as if Jesse amuses him. It makes Jesse feel like a kid, somehow, giddy and flustered, as if it had been Hanzo doing the flirting and not the other way around. To keep himself grounded he goes on talking.

“ _Strip away the things that makes a man feel safe and push him to the edge, that's where you'll see the strength of his spirit_ , is what Gabe told me. And he should know. He and Jack have both been there. They've both been naked at that edge and looked over it, into the void.”

“Is that how you learned to tame spirits?” Hanzo asks, dark eyes earnest with curiosity.

“Nah,” Jesse says, waving Hanzo off, even though he allows the sound of his voice to settle low, “that I've always been set for. Didn't know what I was doing, but I did it anyway. Ana reckons that's how I got so lost, see.”

When Hanzo looks confused, Jesse explains, “You spent your whole life being trained by a Master, learning how to control your Dragons, but I didn't have anything like that. I was just me, reaching out, pretty desperately at times. Sometimes you'd get a lashing, sometimes a taste of eternity. That blend of longing and fear can mess up a kid real bad.”

Hanzo hums, his eyes not on Jesse, but on an invisible line in mid-air. Jesse wonders if he can see his Dragons there, even when they are on their spirit plane. He also wonders if Hanzo misses them as fiercely as Genji seems to be missing his; if he longs to call them, but fears it, too.

“You must be quite the man, Jesse McCree,” Hanzo finally says, after a long moment of affluent silence, “to be able to gain the favor of the spirits the way you say.”

At that, Jesse can't help but let out a laugh, low and rumbling as it bubbles up from his chest, because here sits Hanzo Shimada, Dragonlord and ruler of an empire, with two ancient Spirits to his name, and tells Jesse McCree, trash from the sunny side of the bin, that he is special. The laughter gives Hanzo a puzzled look on his face, a twinge of annoyance there, too, and Jesse realizes Hanzo is probably not used to being laughed at when handing out compliments.

“It ain't like the bond you share with your Dragon spirits.” Jesse tries to explain, to amend. “Now, I've met ancient spirits. I've met people with ancient spirits attached to their own spirit, protectin' them. I know the kind of power it takes to be worthy of that bond.” Jesse bows his head, two fingers touching the brim of his hat in a nod of respect. “I ain't never met a man who had the kind of inner power it takes to command two ancient spirits.”

“You know as well as I that I do not command them. Not the way I did in the past.” The words are heavy, layers of regret and defeat, pain and humiliation piled onto them, and in Hanzo's expressive and powerful voice it comes out sounding like an empyrean decree. Jesse, however, isn't fooled.

“I reckon that's true,” Jesse says after pretending to give it thought, feigned nonchalance and a shrug for bait, as he adds, “but I can't rightly tell if it's a fact.”

“You think I cultivate this breach between the Spirits and myself?” Hanzo demands, bark and bite in equal measures. Jesse had expected as much, knowing well that men like Hanzo isn't used to people sowing doubts about the legitimacy of their claims.

“All I'm saying is, that it might be so, but it doesn't _have_ to be.” Jesse says, this time adjusting his voice to soothe the heat from Hanzo. “You've come a long way. Just in the past few days I've seen you step up. Open up, even.” He waits for Hanzo to calm, watches as his intense eyes soften and the hard lines on his face relax. Then, before he can change his mind, before he can lose his nerve, Jesse asks, “I was wondering if you'd let me see them?”

Hanzo had expected the question to come at some point, had prepared himself for it and found his excuse, but the way the request is dropped - with Jesse McCree's voice going low and imploring, the way his eyes search Hanzo's as if he is intend to catch any flinch of resistance, in the middle of an argument, no less - catches Hanzo completely off guard.

“You wish to see them?” he echoes, unconvinced.

“You have no idea how badly.” McCree admits and his voice is passionate, but there is no trace of desperation there. There's just the carefully controlled plea bleeding into his features, reminding Hanzo that underneath all that swagger and playfulness dwells a highly disciplined and capable spirit tamer.

“Why?”

“Truth be told, I miss the thrill of handling ancient spirits, but that's not why I'm asking. See, I'm thinkin' this whole situation with Genji isn't going to be solved with a miracle cure. It's one for the reaches, and you, Hanzo Shimada, is the only one who can walk the distance with him. But in order for you to help your brother, I'm thinkin' you need a bit of help finding a foothold for yourself.”

It makes sense. Hanzo is willing to admit as much, even if the thought of having McCree poke around his old demons leaves Hanzo feeling vulnerable.

“If I was to agree,” Hanzo asks, the implied permission making McCree smile. “What would you have me do?”

“It's real simple.” the cowboy says, “First you show me those Dragons of yours. Then you show me you, the real you.”

 _That's where you'll see the strength of his spirit._ “You wish to push me to the edge.” It is an accusation more than a question, but McCree dispenses it with just a single nod.

“If you'll let me.” he says, brown eyes not leaving Hanzo's face for more than a blink, mapping out every emotion, every reaction. “But fair warning. There ain't no negotiations in this, no suit to hide behind, no family name to use as a shield. All that has to go. Every wall you've build up in the past ten years, the role you've gotten so accustomed to playing. I'm gonna strip it all away.”

Hanzo has to fight not to recoil from the implications. Not that he wouldn't enjoy McCree stripping him down, but Hanzo has never given up control to anyone. The thought of doing it now, with this man, is both alluring and terrifying.

“Do I get a safeword?” Hanzo asks, the sliver of humor accompanied by a smirk. It is more bravado than anything and he is sure the other man must be able to tell, so perceptive he is. Hanzo knows he is right when a mirroring smile finds its way to Jesse's lips.

“Not for this.” the cowboy says as he moves in closer, hovering just out of reach, each breath caressing the top of Hanzo's forehead. Hanzo debates with himself for a time that feels longer than a few measly seconds, but in reality that's all it takes for him to make up his mind. There is reason behind his surrender, he is sure of it, sure that it is more than madness that drives him when he nods and raises his eyes to meet the brown assertive ones of Jesse McCree. Jesse, he decides. If this is happening, then he must be Jesse from now on.

“First,” Jesse whispers as he leans down, vibrations of his lilting drawl against the helix of Hanzo's ear, “let me see your dragons.”

Calling his dragons in combat is easy; Hanzo has done it a dozen times since he became head of the Shimada Empire. There is no doubt in Hanzo when he is faced with a foe that needs to be dealt with, no hesitation. In combat Hanzo's mind is clear, free of the fog that overtakes him when he is left to himself, and on his command the Spirits will work swiftly and cleanly, sating their bloodlust and leaving as suddenly as they appear. Only then does Hanzo start to waver, the loss and longing overwhelming him. He wonders, often, if the Dragons ever spare him a second thought, if they care for him, the way Genji's Dragon cares for her ward, but he dare not call them in private to find out.

Calling them now, half-drunk on the heady scent of a potential lover, distracted by the frenzied pounding of his own heart and the pooling of heat in his groin, is an experiment he has never dreamed of undergoing, not even in his youth where his synchronization with his Dragon spirits was at its peak.

Still, he knows that if he lets himself doubt, even for just a moment, he will not be able to do this. Confidence, however cliche the saying might be, is key when summoning guardian spirits, so he shuts down his train of thought, forces his pulse to slow, his blood to calm. He breathes, deeply, and imagines the atoms of stars swirling through his lungs and into his tissue, into the smallest nooks of him, steadying and fortifying him. He steps backwards, slipping into a balanced stance, and by the time he calls out he can already feel the tinkle of ancient power running over the skin, prickling his fingertips.

The Dragons are translucent, blue and glowing like the neon lights that soak Hanamura city at night. They roar, making the ground shake under Hanzo's bionic feet, vibrations that runs though him and makes him feel like a god for the duration of it.

Transfixed, Hanzo watches as Jesse coaxes his dragons, makes them dance around them both, guides them with his steady eyes and those talented hands of his, spirits equally mesmerized and charmed. If Hanzo had any reservations about giving himself over to Jesse they have evaporated along with the sheet of sweat on the back of his neck, drowned out by the thunderous pounding of his heart, reverberating in his inner ear like a war drum.

 _Show him_ , the Dragons whisper in Hanzo's mind. _Show him why we follow you._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to hit me up on my [Tumblr](http://flyingassassin.tumblr.com/), to shame me, love me or correct my spelling and/or grammar.  
> Please leave comments if you read to the end.


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